


The Lima Job

by MotherGoddamn



Series: The Dapper Highwayman [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherGoddamn/pseuds/MotherGoddamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to The Dapper Highwayman. Six months later and Blaine is up to his old tricks. But this time the job is bigger and the stakes are higher. And Finn Hudson is along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Thank you, Kath. Can I call you, Kath?" Blaine asked as the teller blushed. "That's a _lovely_ name."

"You can call me anything you want, handsome. Are fifties okay?"

"Fifties are wonderful. Oh, Kath, could you do me favor? Could you not trigger the alarm until I'm down the block?"

"No problem." She tapped her finger at a stray hair escaping from her bun. "Anything else?"

"No, I think that's... Wait? Did you take a little something something out for yourself?" She nodded and patted the bulging pocket at her chest. "Right. I'd best be off.” Blaine pulled the bag towards him, scooping up a stray note. You have a lovely day!"

"Sir! Wait." Blaine turned, a twitch of fear in his heart. "You forgot this!"

"Oh! What am I like?" He jogged back and took the gun out of her hands. "Okay, fifteen minutes head start."

"Sure, good luck!"

As he neared the bank door Blaine broke into a run. As jobs go it had gone pretty well. He and Wes had planned it down to the last detail. Small bank, broken CC-TV, limited staff and a lone security guard that didn't react well when copious amounts of contact solution were placed in his food. But no matter how well it had gone so far it still had time to fail.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Blaine struggled to control his breath. Calm. Calm. It wouldn't do to draw attention to himself now. No, just calmly walk over to Wes' car which was...aha, _there._

With his head down, he pulled the bag tight over his shoulder and approached the car in brisk steps. Pulling open the door, he flung the bag of money into the back seat. "Okay, go! Go!" Blaine cried, staring towards the bank. "Come on!"

"Er, dude?"

Blaine looked sideways. 

_What the fuck?_

"You're not Wes!"

"No?" In the place where _goddamn Wes_ was supposed to be sitting, a handsome young man sat looking at him in blank shock. "Can I help you, bro?" 

Blaine stared around the car in confusion. "Did Wes send you instead?"

"Wes?"

"Oh, my God!" 

_Wes had choked_. He had choked and Blaine had just climbed into someone else's car! Behind him the bells began to ring out loud and any minute the police would be swarming over this place. Over Blaine. 

_Damnit, Kathy! We agreed fifteen!_

"This feels like a complete career step back but," Blaine put the gun into the guy's side. "Drive."

* 

"Listen, man. I don't want any trouble. Just chill okay. Let's all chill."

"Could you go just a tad faster? Like, actually reach the minimum speed limit."

"My name is Finn Hudson. I'm twenty one. I like Italian food. My girlfriend's name is Rachel. I'm a Pisces. I know Cameron Diaz is supposed to be, like, super hot but I always get like a sinister vibe from her, you know? Oh, and I have a mild phobia of potatoes." 

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "Are we on a speed date?"

"What? No. I saw in a movie once that if you make the killer recognize that the victim is human, than he is less likely to make suits out of their skin."

"I'm not going to kill you! Or wear you. Why does everyone always think I'm going to do that? Is it me? It is it something I'm putting out there?" Blaine shook his head. "Wait, potatoes? You're scared of _potatoes_?"

"Well, I said _mildly_. It's those creepy shrubs that grow out of them after you leave them long enough." He shuddered, ignoring Blaine's blank stare. "Listen, did you rob that bank? Like seriously?"

"Yes, I _seriously_ robbed that bank." Blaine looked in the rear-view at the scene of the crime that wasn't disappearing fast enough for his liking. "There's a turtle behind us with a brick on his back. He wants to know what's holding us up."

"I'm a nervous driver!" Finn hissed. "And you've got a gun on me!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Listen, Finn, was it?"

"Like Nemo."

"Like...? Okay, I don't want to hurt you. I honestly don't. But please. Just crank it up a notch!"

Finn sighed, dipping his foot and causing the needle to crawl up. "There. Happy? Where are we driving to anyway?"

"There's this cabin in the hills that my partner and I..."

"No way, man. No way! I am not going to your lair!"

"I don't have a _lair_! I'm not The Riddler! Calm down, will you! It was just a place to hide low for a few days and then we were going our separate ways. Except Wes shot the gun on that one." Blaine looked over at Finn. "You're... you're probably going to have to stay with me. Because you're a witness and all."

"What? How is it _my_ fault you got into _my_ car?" Finn shook his head. "All I wanted was to deposit my pennies."

"Pennies?" Finn jutted his head and Blaine looked in the back seat at the jar of cents and dimes. "That is... adorable."

"Don't even think about taking it!" 

"I'll try to restrain myself," Blaine said dryly. "Although, there must be at least seventeen dollars in there." Blaine sighed, looking the other boy over. Not really his type. All limbs and dopey half smiles, but not bad at all. He could be looking at worse things. Then again, he thought remembering another boy, he could be looking at _better_ things.

"Can I turn this song up?" Finn said interrupting his thoughts. "It's so awesome."

"You mean there's a part in this car you're not scared to use?" Blaine twirled the gun. "Be my guest."

"Man, I haven't heard this in ages. Hey, do you think Cee Lo Green looks like a really tall midget?"

Blaine blinked. "What?"

"Sorry, forgot that's not politically correct. No offense."

"No offen...? Hey!"

"I mean _little person_. He looks like a really tall _little person_. Seriously, his arms are tiny. If you put a Twinkie in his back pocket, he'd starve to death."

"Finn," Blaine asked softly. "Did your carer get away from you?" 

Finn scowled and turned up the volume dial. Blaine rubbed against his temple with the barrel. Just an hour’s drive tops. And then he'd gag him. Gag him with a pair of shoes.

"So, let me get this straight. You're not going to shoot me?" Finn asked, his eyes darting over. "Or kill me?"

"No," Blaine sighed. "Like I said..."

"So what's stopping me pulling over..."

"You'd have to speed up for that."

"...and yelling fire out of the window? Hmm." Finn gave him a look so self satisfied that if his hands hadn't been occupied they'd have been jazz hands getting involved.

"Er, the lack of fire?"

"No, no. They teach you to yell fire when you need help," Finn explained. "I saw it on Dateline."

"They teach people in danger of _rape_ to yell fire. You know? Down dark alleys and that. Not in broad daylight. In the middle of the road. When everyone can see that _you're not on fire!_ "

"Calm down, geez. Just a point."

"Is that a police car?" Blaine's eyes widened as he saw the approaching vehicle. "Finn, seriously!" He began to drum his hands against the dashboard. "Come on, come on, come on!"

"Sweet beat, man." 

"Stop joining in! Just go! What are you...? Oh, my God. What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry!" Finn shrugged as he turned the car. "What's wrong?"

"I am on the run! I have a gun on you, there is a police car behind us and you're going into a McDonald's drive through! What is the _matter_ with you?"

"Look! The cops are going straight on, see! They aren't tailing us. What kind of idiot would get food when running from robbing a bank?"

_"You?"_

"No, not me." Finn poked a finger in the air with a smug nod. "Smart like a fox." He wound down the window and grinned into the intercom. "Hi! Can I get two Big Mac meals, a quarter pounder with cheese and two banana milkshakes. Er, do you want anything?" 

"Yes," Blaine leaned over the boy. "Can we get a potato? The older the better."

"Hey!" Finn elbowed him. "Not cool, man. Listen, can you sub me twenty dollars?"

"What?"

"Well, I can't exactly give them pennies, and I need money for the food." 

"I've seen this episode of Pinky and the Brain," Blaine grumbled grabbing his bag from the back and getting out the money. "Happy?"

"Gas."

Blaine looked at him blankly.

"You've got me driving you to Jellystone Park, the least you can do is sub me for the gas. Cough up, dude." Finn dug in his jean pocket for his wallet and flung it in Blaine's lap. "Only fair."

"Fine, fine." Blaine flipped open the wallet and began to place in the money. "Of all the cars in all the world," he muttered. "This your girlfriend?" he asked, seeing a pretty brunette looking at him from the photo holder.

"Yeah, she isn't usually cross-eyed, though. She was just yelling at me when I took that. Her nostrils are totally less flarey."

"And this?" Blaine pulled out the picture behind it, of Finn with a woman, a man and an attractive boy. "Who are these?"

"That's my Mom, my step dad, Burt and..."

Oh, no. No. No. Blaine thought as he squinted at the picture. It couldn't be.

"...my step brother Kurt."

_This was not good._

*

Kurt stifled a yawn and tried to subtly look at his wrist watch. This wasn't going well. Not well at all. Colin had seemed so much more interesting and handsome at the night club. And thinner. He really needed to stop with the sambucas. This is how he kept ending up on dates with Boteros. 

"...so then I said that if they didn't get the project manager on the phone in the next..."

Kurt was sure that this anecdote had started sometime back in the sixties. Where was Mercedes with that _"just in case he is a creep"_ phone call?

Oh, God, but that Adam's apple was definitely above the standard size. He looked like a snake that had swallowed a bowling ball. 

_Bob, bob, bob._

Stop staring at it! Stop being bitchy! Look at something else. His hair, maybe, That was nice. Well, what he had of it. Wait. What was _that_ on his forehead? Was that a mole?

No. No. It wasn't a mole. It was an _appendage._

Stop it! Right. Eyes. No, that was no good. They were so close they looked in conversation with each other. Okay, mouth. Can't go wrong with a mouth. Even if that mouth was thinner than string. And moving. Endlessly moving.

He may as well face it. The problem wasn't that Colin was mole ridden and boring, although he was. And it wasn't that his Adam's apple probably needed its own room with an en suite, no, the problem was and always would be- Blaine.

Blaine with the sweet hazel eyes and tight firm body. Blaine and all the excitement that he had brought. Blaine wearing handcuffs. 

Blaine who had said he'd find him. And hadn't.

"Kurt. Hey?"

"Sorry, Adam. I mean- Colin?" Kurt smiled. "You were saying?"

Colin. Really? What parent looked at a baby and thought _"Oh, I know! Let's name him Colin."_

"Am I boring you?"

_Yes. Oh, my God. Yes._

"No! Of course not! Come on. Who wouldn't find technical issues with video conferences fascinating?"

Colin gave a _"I know, right?"_ shrug, and Kurt had to restrain himself from paper cutting him to death with the menu.

"Listen. I like you and you like me. We're two young, attractive people. How about we get out of here and explore," his eyes dropped down to Kurt's body and his brows wiggled in time with the mountain on his throat. "...that?"

Who, other than Benny Hill, waggled their eyebrows?

"Oh." Kurt gave a stretch and a dramatic yawn. "It's getting quite late and..."

"It's three in the afternoon?"

"Is it? It felt... longer. It's just that I have this paper due and..."

"It's summer vacation?"

"I want to get a head start. You know, make a good impression and..."

Kurt's cell began to ring and Kurt was suddenly hit by an extreme and total religious conversion "Hello," he said as he snatched up the phone. "Oh, my God, Mercedes when did this happen?" The ringtone continued to shrill. _Fuck!_ Kurt laughed nervously and gestured to the phone. "Ah, I forgot to click... Er, excuse me." Colin raised a skeptical eyebrow as Kurt stared down at the phone. _Finn?_ Finn was more a texter than a caller at the best of times. Although, even then it was like cracking the Enigma Code. "Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt!" Finn burst out. "You busy?"

"I'm on a date." Colin made his eyebrows dance again and Kurt held back a retch. "What's wrong?"

In the background frantic whispering began and then Finn was back on the line. "Erm, is he hot?"

"What? Finn!" 

"Like, on a scale of one to ten. How hot?" A hiss. "This is _really_ disturbing!"

"Are you drunk?" Kurt shrugged at Colin who was starting to look irritated. Kurt held up one finger. "Finn, you need me to come right away? Right this instant?" Kurt began to rise. "Okay. And exactly how much amputation is needed?"

"What are you...? No, you see the thing is... See here's the thing. Stop poking me with that! I'm trying to find the right way to say it. Control issues much?"

"Poking? Who's poking you?"

Down the line came a rustling and a new voice addressed him. "Kurt?"

"Yes." A curious feeling of familiarity washed over him. He knew that voice. _He knew it._

"This is a bit awkward, so I'm just going to come right out and say it." The man sighed. "I appear to have accidentally kidnapped your brother."


	2. Chapter 2

"You cannot seriously need the bathroom again?"

"I pee a lot when I'm nervous! I already told you!"

"Seven times? Seven times? What did you drink before you left your house this morning? The sea?"

"I just want to know if you have a toilet, that's all!" Finn stepped into the doorway, his hands on the frame, blocking Blaine from entering. "In case I need to go later."

"Of course there's a toilet! It's not a wigwam."

"Do you have any entertainment up here? Games console? TV? Jenga?"

"Jenga?"

"It's the game where you have all these..."

"I know what Jenga is, Finn!"

"Well, why ask then? Geez. I just want to know that we'll have something to do while I'm here," his voice grew soft. "You said I'd be here awhile."

"Well, you don't need to worry about that." Blaine pushed the gun into the base of Finn's spine. "In you go."

"What do you mean? I don't need to worry about it. You're going to let me leave?" he asked in surprise. "For real?"

"Soon," Blaine licked his lips. "Kurt, er, changes things."

Blaine tried to ignore the excitement building in his chest. And the worry. It was too soon. All this planning. All these months. This wasn't the way that he'd wanted to see the boy again.

"...obsessed with him anyway?" Finn asked, still standing stock still in the doorway. "He isn't rich, you know? He can't pay a ransom or anything. He owes _me_ ten bucks."

"We, er, met once before." Blaine nudged again with the gun. "This isn't a toy, Finn. Will you move?"

"What? Where? How? In a bank?"

Blaine gritted his teeth. "If you go in, I'll tell you!"

Finn sighed and allowed himself to be pushed into the cabin. "Whoa. Is this Elton John's wardrobe?"

Blaine gave the room a quick once over. Still as ugly as he had left it. It was like Mae West had decorated it while being attacked by a wild, rabid animal. Wes and he had scouted it out about two months back, finding out the owner was soon to be in Spain on holiday. Possibly to have their cataracts removed because, _damn_. It would do, though. They weren't after luxury, after all. It was just a place to rest their heads until it was time to move on. 

"Okay," Finn said walking ahead, "How do you know..." He broke off. "Who are you?" 

Blaine frowned. Oh, God. Don't let him be seeing dead people. "Who is...?" He started as he saw the shadow on the other side of the room, lit up against the backdrop of the window.

"Hello, Blaine." A lamp flickered on. "Fancy seeing you here."

" _You!_ " Blaine snapped on seeing Wes sitting opposite in the room's only chair, foot over knee, and looking as calm and relaxed as one man could be. "Where the hell were you?"

"At the bank, Blaine. You went in and I was waiting. I was waiting as you came out. I was waiting as you walked right out and climbed into this guy's car. And now? Now I'm waiting for a reason not to..." He revealed the Colt. in his hands. "Use this."

Blaine held up his palms, licking his lips nervously. "Let's just keep cool. Okay? You were there. Where?"

"Behind this moron! He took my space!" Wes laughed bitterly. "So this is what you do? Get me to do all the work and then take the credit and take off with another player? The arrogance that you'd still come here!" Wes hissed. "The sheer goddamn arrogance." 

Blaine swallowed hard. "Wes, seriously. This isn't what it looks like! Honestly, I got in his car by mistake!"

"You expect me to believe that? Believe you two aren't in cahoots."

"Cahoots? Do you think we stole doubloons?" Blaine shook his head. "I thought you had chickened out, Wes! I got in the wrong car. I had to get out of there fast."

"It's true, dude. He just jumped in and began threatening me with potatoes." 

"Don't help, Finn!" Blaine turned back to Wes. "You know I don't know cars. And they were both green!"

" _I drive a van!_ " Wes looked at the bag that was clutched tight in Blaine's grip. "Is that the money? Throw it over."

"But..."

"Now, Blaine!"

"Just keep calm, okay? No need to freak out." Blaine held up his own piece. "You're not the only one with weapon, Wes."

Wes sighed. "That's not loaded. Remember, Blaine."

_Damnit!_

"What the hell, man!" Finn gasped. "You kidnapped me with an unloaded gun?"

Blaine ignored him and tossed it to Wes' feet, throwing the bag forward, too. "Fine. Fine. But I'm telling you. It's the truth."

Wes darted forward, grabbing the strap and dragging it back. The gun never lowered. Straightening up, he looked them both over. "Okay, suppose I buy this. For now. Go along with that you're that stupid, and blind. I want _him_ tied up. And I'm keeping my hands on this," he held up the Colt. "And keeping it on you. Until I can be sure."

"Okay, okay," Blaine agreed. "That sounds fair."

"What? Not okay!"

"It's fine, Finn." Blaine took him by the arm and led him to the chair. "Do you have rope?" 

"All out and ready for you." Wes put the bag onto the sideboard, giving it an affectionate pat. "Literally. I was going to strip you, cover you in honey and tie you to a tree."

"Er, been here awhile then?" Blaine said as he began to tie Finn down. "Thinking that up."

"Yes, actually. What took you so long?" 

Blaine glared at Finn. "We took the scenic route."

"Why do I have to lie down?" Finn asked in a panicked voice. "Why is this chair so weird?"

"There's not many ways I can tie you to a chaise lounge, Finn. Just relax. This will all be over soon." He gave him a pat to the knee and smiled. "I promise."

"A word?" Wes jutted his head and walked away from the two. Blaine sighed and followed him out.

"Okay, I know this has gone astray," Blaine began once they were in the next room, but Wes cut him off. 

"Astray? This is a little more than astray! This is a mess." Wes clenched his fists and sighed. "A hostage, Blaine? Really? The beauty of this job was the lack of people involved!"

"I'm the one who took all the risks!"

"And couldn't be trusted to get into _a van_ by himself! You've been off on this job from the beginning. I thought you were serious about this, Blaine! It was your idea to pull this in the first place!" Wes closed his eyes taking calming breaths. "Okay, what's done is done. I suppose a hostage could be useful. Sure, why not! We'll figure it out."

"Ah, yeah. There's something else. I've sort of...invited a guest." On Wes' look Blaine quickly explained about Kurt, leaving out the tricky part about how they knew each other. Wes didn't need those visuals. They haunted Blaine enough.

"Let me get this straight." Wes placed his finger tips to his lips. "Not only have you needlessly taken one hostage, but you've ordered another for delivery?"

"When you put it like _that_ , it sounds silly."

"The word is reckless!" Wes crossed his arms. "That's it. We need to move. We'll take the BFG with us."

"But Kurt..."

"I don't care about this Kurt. For all we know he is coming with the A Team. I'm not waiting around for that."

"You don't understand! Kurt is... Kurt is..." _Think, Blaine. Think._ "One of the most dangerous men in Lima."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm serious. We did a job together. About six months back. The man was..." Blaine felt his neck heat up. "Wild. He runs with a pretty vicious crew. The moment I realized I had his brother, I knew I had to tell him. If I wanted out alive."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Yes, the guy is... Totally big in the underworld. They call him... Er... Kurt the Hurt. If we move and he eventually tracks us down. We're dead."

"Damnit, Blaine!" Wes made random rabbit punches at the air and gave a cry of annoyance. "Wait, this is too much of coincidence. You just climbed into a crime lord's sibling's car? By accident?"

"Er, yes."

Wes narrowed his gaze. "Either you're in on this, or your ex partner arranged it."

"I'm not double crossing you, Wes." Blaine said. "I swear."

Wes stared at him for awhile, his eyes searching Blaine's face. Finally he sighed. "I believe you. I don't know why but I do. Which means that this Kurt is stepping on our patch. And that tree in there is involved."

Okay, _this_ had backfired.

"No, trust me. That guy is clueless. I swear. On the way here he tried to name all the Bonds in order. He put Matt Damon in there. Twice."

"Is he?" Wes raised an eyebrow. "Is he clueless? Or is he just playing dumb. Waiting for our guard to drop?" He smacked a fist into his palm. "And then he strikes!"

A loud crash came from the front room and Wes' eyes widened. "The money!" 

He turned on his heel and ran into the other room, Blaine following closely. He came to a sharp halt causing Blaine to smack hard into his back. "Oh, my God."

Blaine walked round him and laughed softly. "No, you're right," he said, looking at the over turned chaise lounge and the tall boy trying to crawl across the room with his chin. "He's a criminal mastermind."

*

This was insane. He was currently committing every possible kind of insanity. He should be driving to the police station. He should be on the phone to Carol. What he absolutely should not be doing is following a hastily drawn map on a napkin. And he most certainly should not be running into the arms of his brother's kidnapper.

Kurt cringed, thinking back to how he had ran out of the restaurant before remembering Colin was even there. That was pretty rude.

But then again. It _was_ Blaine.

Kurt squinted at the map, trying to decide if that turn in the road had been real or a result of his excited shaking hands. Blaine had come back! After all these months of hoping, of wondering where he was, wondering if the reason he had dropped from the news was because he had gone straight-or because something bad had happened. Yet now here he was. In Lima. 

And Kurt was going to see him in less than ten minutes!

He tried to bite back a giggle and focus on the matter at hand. _Finn_. Finn had been taken away at gun point. This wasn't something to get giddy over. Finn would be confused. Finn would be scared. Terrified. Kurt wondered if Blaine would like his outfit, he had come from a date after all. And the jeans were especially snug around his… Stop it! No! _Finn_. Think of Finn.

He took the turn that was possibly a hand slip, and licked his dry lips. It had to be on purpose, didn't it? Of all the people Blaine could have ran into, why Finn? Did he really expect him to believe this was a mistake?

Nerves ran over his body and set up home in his stomach as the cabin came into view. Was this it? Kurt gave the map another once over. It had to be.

"Okay, okay. Here we go.” Kurt killed the ignition and looked at the cabin. Blaine was in there. _Blaine!_ Climbing out of the car, he lowered and checked his hair in the side mirror. If only Blaine had given him some warning, he'd have got his bangs trimmed. Kidnappers were _far_ too impulsive.

"Hello," he called, approaching the cabin and a figure at the doorway. "Blaine?"

"Stay where I can see you," an unfamiliar voice said back. "I'm coming out."

"Who are..." Kurt froze as a stranger walked towards him out of the dark. With a gun pointed at his chest. “…you?”

"Hmm," the man said, settling in front of him. "You don't look like you once flayed someone."

"I did what?”

The stranger looked almost nervous. "Nothing. Nothing." He bit at his bottom lip. "Listen, I wanted to see you first. Blaine's inside. I wanted to make sure you two didn't arrange anything behind my back."

"I don't understand. Is Finn okay?" Kurt took a slow step forward and the man nearly shrieked in terror.

"Stay back!" He swallowed over a lump in his throat. "Blaine told me. All about you. And I know you and he paired up once, but you need to know he is with _me_ now. We're partners. Don't think because of this mishap you can stroll in and take over. Double deal behind my back. Okay, er... Mr. Hurt."

_Oh._

Kurt felt like his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach. _Stupid._ How could he have been so foolish? Of course Blaine hadn't come back for him. This really was a _mistake._

"Fine!" he snapped. "I just want to get my brother back. Okay?" 

The other man nodded and gestured to the door with the weapon. "Go on in."

Kurt edged past him, keeping a distance. _Idiot!_ Why hadn't he gone to the police? This was Finn's life!

His eyes blinked as the harsh light of the room hit them. Christ, he didn't know so many shades of pink existed. 

"Finn!" He went to go to him but the man grabbed at his arm. "Why is my brother wrapped up like a hoagie?"

"It's the chair," Finn said. "It's French." He gave a struggle against the ropes, and sighed. "Man, am I glad to see you."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"He's fine," Blaine said, appearing at Kurt's side. "Hey. Long time no see."

Kurt's breath halted in his throat and his hands clenched into fists at his side. Oh, good God. He looked even better than he had remembered. _Prick._

"Hello," Kurt said, lifting his chin with a sniff. "I see you're still up to the same old, same old."

Blaine smiled. "It's good to see you, Kurt." He moved closer. "How have you been?"

The other man stepped between the two, and Kurt tried to resist the urge to duck his head round his body, to get another glance at Blaine.

"Not to interrupt this beautiful reunion," he said in a snide voice. "But I think we need to talk business." 

"Business?" Kurt asked. "I just want to take Finn and go. We don't want any part of this."

"And then you run back to your contacts? Tell them you've got a cash cow in the hills? I don't think so." He shook his head. "Blaine, tie this one up, too."

"What? That wasn't what we agreed, Wes!" Blaine looked shocked. "He's no threat to us."

"After what you told me?" Wes, apparently, turned and looked at him. "I'm not taking the risk."

Jesus. Talk about the jealous type.

"Look, I don't want involved in whatever you two have going on. I'm _delighted_ for you. Just let us go. We won't say anything."

"Oh, really? You think I haven't noticed the looks you've been giving Blaine? I know what you're thinking. You think you can just walk into here and crawl into bed with us. Don't you?"

"Oh, my God. No! I'm not European."

"Wes, you're blowing this out of portion," Blaine said, stepping around him. "We can trust them. Just let them go."

Wes turned to him, the gun leveled at his chest. "You're not out of the woods, yet, Blaine. If I were you I'd do what I say."

"Wow, he has you whipped," Kurt muttered.

Wes sneered. "Tie Mr. Hurt up."

"You can't be serious? Come on!"

" _I said tie him up!_ " He pointed towards the small kitchen that was attached to the front room. "There. Where I can see him. Don't give me that look, Blaine. There's some rope left over from the brother. Tie him to a handle or something."

"Blaine," Kurt said in a whisper, he took his arm. "What are you doing?"

"It's okay, Kurt. It won't be for long. I promise you." He caught the rope Wes tossed and began to walk them to the kitchen. "I'll get you out of this. Get you _both_ out of this."

For a moment their eyes met and Kurt's heart skipped a beat. Blaine broke the gaze with a dry cough.

"So, your date?" Blaine asked, his hand tight around his wrist. Kurt tried to ignore the spark of fire in his gut. "Serious?"

If Blaine could replace him easily enough, then so could Kurt.

"Very," he said smugly. "We've been seeing each other about, oh, five months now?"

Blaine's lips gave the flicker of a twist and then his face smoothed over. Blank. So much for making him jealous. "Really? How nice. What's he called."

"Colin." 

"Colin?" Blaine laughed. "Is he a chartered accountant?"

"How did you...? Shut up. Least it's a respectable job. You, know, instead of stealing."

"But Colin?" Blaine gave a tug and began to bind the cord around the nearest handle and Kurt's hands. "I can see it now. There you are, deep in the throes of passion, he looks into your eyes, and unbidden from your lips you sigh... _Colin_."

Blaine really needed to stop talking in that throaty voice. And he really needed to not stand so close.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can have a super macho name like _Wesley_."

"What's Wes got to do with anything?" Blaine grunted as he checked the knot. Slowly, he pulled himself up, his face nearing Kurt's as he rose, his breath ghosting Kurt's lips and his hazel eyes staring into his. "I... Erm. This will do for now." He stepped back and wiped at his hands. "That should hold you."

Kurt gave a tug and cursed under his breath. "I can't believe you've tied me to an oven! What am I supposed to do?"

Blaine crossed his arms, and leaned back against the counter. "Bake a cake?" 

Kurt glared at him. How had he once found this idiot attractive? Honestly.

“So,” Blaine began, looking at his nails. "Colin what?"

"He's called...called..." Kurt stared down at the ground. _Don't say floor. Don't say floor_. "Tile....lington. Colin Tilelington.."

"Colin Tilelington? 

"The Third."

"The...? Where did you meet him? In an Enid Blyton book?"

"No, we met in a night club. He bought me a drink. Like, you know, a _normal_ person."

"Hmm," Blaine murmured. "Lashings of ginger beer no doubt."

"You...you...I cannot believe you tricked me into coming here. I actually thought..." Kurt bit his lip and looked away, at Finn tied to the chair across the room. At Wes on the other side of the room, watching them. At the gun. This was all his fault.

"You thought what, Kurt?" Blaine asked softly. "What?"

"That you...that you..." _That you'd still want me._ He gave a shake of his head. "That you'd let me take Finn home. Let us go."

Blain gave a nod and stepped forward, grabbing him by the shoulder. "I'll tell you what." Blaine said. "I'll let you go. Sure."

"Really?" Kurt gaped. "Are you serious?"

"If you can name a sexy Colin. Just one."

"I'm sorry?" Kurt blinked. "What?'

"A sexy Colin. Go on." Blaine smiled and tightened his grip, causing Kurt's knees to betray him with a shiver.

"Of all the...." Kurt snapped. "You are completely ridiculous! I am not going to stand here, and reel off... _Firth!_ Colin Firth! Ha!"

"Colin Firth is not sexy," Blaine said blandly.

Good God. The man was _unhinged._

"Yes! He is! He is very sexy! Have you seen Pride and Prejudice? The shirt, Blaine. The shirt!"

"Colin Firth is English. Not sexy. People always make that mistake when an accent is involved." 

"How is that...? What are you? That's not fair! Why do you get the deciding vote?"

"Okay, fine. Let's have your brother decide." Blaine smiled. "Finn! Colin Firth? Sexy or not?"

"What the hell, dude? I'm not answering that!"

Blaine shrugged. "There we have it."

"No!" Kurt craned his neck trying to see the other boy. "Just answer it, Finn! Come on!"

Finn, trying to sit up, and sighed. "Okay, okay. Calm down. I guess...no? He seems so old and kind of chubby. With tiny eyes like pebbles. Isn't he ancient? I prefer that Hugh Grant. He seems sort of rogue like and charming. Especially in..."

"Shut up, Finn!"

"You're staying I guess. Now, _Hugh_?" Blaine laughed. "That's a sexy name."

*

"I don't like the way he keeps looking at you," Wes hissed an hour later. "Every time I look up he is glaring at you."

"Well, understandably, he's a tad upset." Blaine shifted on the carpet, his back against the chair Finn was tied to. The chair he was snoring loudly in. "He's expressing that."

"I don't think he's right in the head. Why does he keep randomly yelling names?" Wes leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Who in hell is Colin Hanks?"

"Someone not sexy." Blaine sighed. "How many times are you going to count this money? It's all there, okay?"

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about him." He started as Kurt yelled again. "Oh, my God. Colin Montgomery? Are these codes? Threats?" Wes licked his lips. "Just who the hell is he, Blaine?" 

"He's..." Blaine began to play with the laces of his shoe. Kurt was what exactly? Involved? Off limits? Out of reach forever?

Had all this been for nothing?

"Kurt is complicated." He frowned at Wes who was balancing the gun on his index finger and twirling it every now and then. "Will you stop spinning that? It's not a water pistol," Blaine muttered, his eyes seeking out Kurt again.

How could he look so delicious even tied to an oven? Dimly, Blaine could hear Wes talking, but his mind had wandered back. Six months prior. He remembered how soft Kurt's skin had felt against his hands, how his lips had tasted. How much he had worked to get back into his life only to mess it all up when he was so close.

“Blaine?” Wes said. "You're not even listening are you?"

"Of course I am. It's just hard to concentrate when you're holding me under gun point."

"This plan was flawless! We spent months on this. Finding the right bank, collating the information, _this_ place. And you messed it up in the space of three minutes. Three min...what's that smell?"

"Kurt!" Blaine called. "You've turned the gas on again."

"Colin Powell!"

"No! Seriously. These are just getting mental."

Wes shook his head. "He is really freaking me out. How did you end up doing a job with him in the first place? I thought you worked the highways?"

"It's a long, boring story. And you look tired. I wouldn't want to put you through it."

"Do I look like I have other plans?" Wes raised an eyebrow. "Go on, tell me about Kurt the Hurt."

Blaine licked at his lips. "Well, er... We first met on..."

" _Colin Farrell!_ " Kurt screamed suddenly. " _Colin Farrell! Yes! Colin, sexy as all hell, Farrell!_ "

"Jesus!" Wes cried in shock, his arm jerking forward, a shot ringing out.

The two stared at each other in horror.

"Did you just...?"

"I did! I did! Oh, my God," Wesley muttered staring down at the gun. "I didn't mean to... I didn't..."

Blaine reached up slowly, his fingers to his shoulder. He rose them higher, to his face. 

They were red and wet. 

"Did you just _shoot_ me?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Dude? Wake up, dude." A voice said from above and Blaine blinked his eyes open.

"What...?" he asked, his mouth dry. "I don't..."

"It was all a dream," Finn intoned. He slipped an arm under Blaine's back. "Well, whatever you've been thinking about since you passed out. From the bullet. That went into you. That one."

"Oh, my God!" Blaine groaned as he sat up, starting on seeing his bloody shoulder. “What happened?”

"I found it!" Wes nearly dropped to the floor next to Finn. "The first aid kit!" He pushed it towards him.

"Sweet," Finn took it from Wes' hand and opened the box, removing gauze and a bottle of pills. "Right. Now which shoulder, Blaine?"

" _Guess!_ "

"Jeez, no need to be snappy. I'm just trying to help." Finn began twisting at the bottle lid. "Can't...get...it...open."

Wes frowned, taking it back and opening it. "It"s child proof." 

"Well, how they expect a kid to open that, I don't know. Okay, you need some water? To swallow this."

Blaine was in hell. He had to be. 

"Why are you giving me an aspirin for a bullet wound? Where did you get your medical training? Scrubs?" He glanced down at his shoulder and winced at the red spreading across his white tee-shirt. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

"Is he okay?" Kurt called from the kitchen. "I can't see!"

"I'm okay, Kurt!" Finn called back. "Just shook up!"

"Not you, you house plant. Blaine! Is Blaine okay?" Blaine's felt a soar of triumph at the concern in Kurt's voice. "Blaine?"

"He's fine!" Wes snapped. "No thanks to you, Shouty McGee!" 

"You're the idiot that _shot_ him!" Kurt retorted. 

"I'm fine, Kurt. I think?" Blaine turned round and glanced at the chair. "The bullet's in the wood. I think it went through. That's good, right? They always seem happy about that on Grey’s Anatomy."

"Okay, we need to get your shirt off," Wes leaned forward and began to tug at the material. "Come on,"

"Careful! Ow! Cool it, Doctor House." Blaine winced as the shirt came away from his wound. "I cannot believe you shot me!"

"It was an accident, Blaine," Wes said as he pulled the shirt over his head. "An accident caused by your crazy...that's it?" Wes said staring blankly at Blaine's now naked shoulder. "That's nothing!"

"Stop poking it!"

"Seriously, no offense, dude, but from the amount of noise you've been making I was expecting more." Finn leaned past and sniffed. "It's just like a chunk of skin gone from the top. No biggie."

"No big...? It's not a scraped knee!" 

"I think it needs stitches, though," Wes said. "You'll have to do it, Finn."

"Me? I can't sew! My Mom does all that for me! You do it!"

"How can I sew and hold a gun on you at the same time? I'm not Martha Stewart."

"Kurt! Kurt can totally sew. And knit." 

"What?" Kurt squeaked. "I'm not sewing up _people!_ "

"I'm not untying him." Wes shook his head. "He is unhinged! I picked _you_ to help. So help. Look, there's plenty of thread in here. And a needle."

"Wes! No! Please! Don't let this man near me with a needle! Let Kurt do it. Let anyone do it. Find a bright badger. Anything. Just not _him_." Blaine stared at the other man, eyes wide as he pleaded. "You owe me!"

Wes contemplated him for a moment, searching his face. "Fine. Fine." He grabbed at the abandoned rope and began to loop it around Blaine's left wrist. He then tied the remaining part around Finn's right. "Just in case he gets any ideas."

*

"This is insane. This isn't the movies. I can't just start..." Kurt made a jabbing motion with the needle. "What if it gets infected? And he gets a fever and dies? Or worse. It leaves a scar?"

"Oh, that's making me feel better. Brilliant bedside manner, Crippen."

"I'm just saying you need a real doctor! Not me! We have to go to a hospital!"

"Hospitals mean questions. Questions mean police," Wes shrugged. "And I think we know where that leads." He turned to Kurt. "In the kitchen, third cupboard. There's some bottles of vodka. Bring them over. We need to clean the wound."

“Does that really work? I thought it was just something they did in Bruce Willis movies between explosions.” The others stared back and Kurt sighed. “Fine. Fine. I need to sterilize this needle, too.”

“The kettle’s next to the sink.” Wes held up the gun. “You make one move towards the door and your brother gets a matching medal.”

Kurt rolled his eyes as he stood. Man, this guy was way over dramatic. Between the hissy fits and the shooting people and all, Kurt really couldn’t see what Blaine saw in him. He removed the bottles from the cupboard and flicked the switch for the kettle to boil. Taking a mug from the side, he dropped the needle in and poured in a little bit of the vodka. This really wasn’t how he had envisioned the evening going. There had certainly been more kissing and wriggling around in his mind. Impromptu surgery hadn’t even figured into it.

Once the needle was clean, or, he hoped, as clean as it was going to get he returned to the trio. He uncapped the first vodka, hissing when Blaine snatched it from his grip.

"Dutch courage," he explained before knocking it back with a grimace. "That's horrible. Okay, a little more. _Bleargh._ One more for luck. So disgusting! Just a tad..."

"Give Kurt the goddamn bottle, Blaine!" 

Blaine glared at Wes and handed the drink over, his knuckles brushing against Kurt's. 

Okay. He was shirtless. So what? Who cared? Who cared that his chest was divine and muscled and _oh, God_ , that he had those weird little dips curving into his hips that belong on Ken dolls. Or Pink. Who cared? Not Kurt.

"You want to stop drooling, bro?" Finn gave him a nudge and a wink. "Now isn't the time for Stockholm syndrome."

"It's Helsinki syndrome, idiot," Kurt muttered, pouring the alcohol down Blaine's arm. "Sorry, sorry." He said as the Blaine hissed and began to push away.

"You little..." Blaine cut off his sentence with an audible snap. He glanced at his hand that had formed a fist and shook his head, unclenching his fingers. "What I mean is... Actually, Finn is right." Blaine shot him a wide grin. "It's Stockholm. What is it with you and Bruce Willis?"

" _Finn is right_ is a contradiction in terms." Kurt handed his brother the bottle and began to thread the needle, his hands shaking slightly as he brought it towards Blaine’s skin. He couldn't do this. He couldn't!

"Don't take it out on me. I didn't get us into this."

"Oh, and I did?" Kurt retorted, looking at him. "I didn't drive into the middle of a bank job, did I?"

"No, but you _do_ know this guy. How? Hmm?" Finn smiled as Kurt's hesitation. " _How_ do you know him, Kurt?"

"We met online," Blaine blurted. "Dating service. You know?" 

"What's wrong with your eye?" Finn asked. "Why is it all flapping?'

"It's a... a twitch. I get it when tired. Or shot."

Kurt turned to Wes, who looked almost as confused as he did. "Er, yes. Online,” he agreed slowly. 

Okay, why the hell was _Wes_ winking at him now. What exactly had Blaine told him about the hook up?

" _What?_ Do you know how dangerous that is, Kurt?" Finn glanced around the room. "Oh, you maybe _do_ know. But that doesn't make it alright! What goes on in your head sometimes?"

"Least _something_ is going on in my head!" Kurt said with a glare.

"You know what?" Finn snapped. "I can't believe we came from the same womb!" 

"We didn't!"

"Fine! I can't believe you don't _have_ a womb!"

"Ow!" Blaine gasped. "Don't prick me when mad!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Kurt grimaced as he began to thread the skin together. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm going to be sick. Sorry."

"Give me the bottle! Give me the bottle!" Blaine tore it out of Finn's hands and began to down the vodka. "Oh, my God. That's not helping in the _slightest_."

"That is so gross!" Finn said excitedly, leaning over to get a better look. "Ew, ew!"

"Will you both stop wriggling?" Kurt murmured, his lip burying itself in the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. "This is hard enough without you two turning it into pin the tail on the donkey."

Disgusting. Horrible. There was blood under his nails for goodness sake. This isn't how it looked in the westerns when they did this. They never showed Grace Kelly trying not to vomit, while Gary Cooper rabbit punched her in the knee, and called her a tiny shit over and over. It wasn't romantic or sexy in the slightest.

"I'm nearly done," Kurt said staring down into Blaine's eyes. "Just a few more, okay." Blaine swallowed and nodded, free hand curling around Kurt's hip, fingers digging in and thumb rubbing against his waist.

Okay. Maybe it was a _little_ bit sexy.

“There,” Kurt said, grinning at his work. Disturbing as it was, he was a little proud of himself. He was almost sorry as he taped down the gauze over the top of it. “All done.”

"Okay, okay." Wes took Kurt's wrist. "I'm going to tie you to Blaine. Have you all in the same place." 

“No, don’t…” Kurt began but Wes had already begun to wind the rope around their hands, tying the two together. Kurt winced at the tightness and tried not to fall into Blaine's newly dressed shoulder. 

Wes rose and stared down at the three, index finger tapping against his bottom lip. "Okay, that should work." 

Blaine looked from side to side. "Wait, I don't want to be the middle." 

"Calm yourself. It's not The Human Centipede." Wes reached down, grabbing Kurt by the arm, pulling him up and causing the other two to follow. "Right, right. Back to the kitchen."

"No! You can't tie me to the oven again!" Kurt protested as Wes led the three across the room. "This is _ridiculous_. Be honest. Is it a fetish?"

"I can't have you all running around like a Japanese quiz show event while I try to get some sleep," Wes said, using the final piece of rope on Kurt’s free hand and the door handle. “It’s exhausting looking after you all.” Once secure, he slapped his palms together and smiled "Wow. It's like Pinocchio, Frodo and Hagrid on a stag weekend."

"What now?" Blaine hovered uncertainly as decided between a stand or a sit. Kurt and Finn bobbed alongside him until he chose to remain upright. "What _amazing_ plan do you have now?"

Wes placed his hands on his hips and sighed. "Get drunk?"

*

“Right, Finn said. "This is number four ibble dibble with no dibble ibbles calling number two ibble dibble with seven dibble ibbles.” 

"You know, you know? I think this may be the greatest game ever." Kurt said with a slur, dropping his head onto Blaine's shoulder. "Oh, shit sorry! Sorry! I keep doing that!"

Blaine winced and tried to smile. But he wasn't entirely sure how his face worked anymore. "I don't. I think it sucks."

"That's just because Finn is winning," Wes dryly. "It's like he is an idiot savant with drinking games."

"Shut up! I'm awesome. So awesome. Right, Kurt? Kurt that was _you_. You’re number two ibble dibble. You lost again. Dibble ibble him, Wes.”

"This game makes no sense,” Blaine complained. “None.”

“Hey! We’re doing our best without a cork and black ink. I think we are doing well,” Wes replied as he lent forward and pressed the bottle to Kurt's lips. He tilted it upward and the liquid worked itself into Kurt’s mouth, some escaped and dribbled down his bottom lip and chin. Blaine had never wanted to be a drop of liquor more in his whole entire life.

"Dude! Could you get my hand out of your crotch again?" Finn asked pulling it back. "It's the... the _rubbing_ that's freaking me out."

"Gentlemen, I regret to inform you..." Wes turned the last of the bottles upside down. "We're out."

"No!" Kurt cried. "I was due a second wind."

"No you weren’t,” Finn argued. “You’re a disgrace to Ibble Dibble.” His eyes widened. "Boxed wine!" he cried pumping his fist. "Boxed wine!"

"Attached, Finn! Attached!" Blaine said, pulling his hand back down from the ceiling. "How many times?"

"No, guys. I seriously have some wine in my trunk. It was for Rachel's party last week, but we never took it out. We can keep drinking!"

"You...you are the best brother in the world. Have I ever told you that?" Kurt said, his lip trembling. "I love you."

"Oh, man!" Finn grinned back. "I love you, too!"

"Hey! Stop hugging I'm in the middle, remember!" Blaine protested. "Actually, actually... _Yeah_ , this works. Keep going. Keep going."

"Stop it, pervert!" Kurt leaned back with a sigh. "Wes! Wes! Are you _crying?_ "

"I'm the worst criminal ever," he said with a mixture of sob and a hiccup. "I mean _really_."

"Come on! Don’t talk like that,” Blaine said. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner. Honest.”

"Look around you, Blaine! I've got three drunk hostages tied to some white goods. I accidentally _shot_ you. This is a farce! This is exactly how it would go down if Mr. Bean attempted armed robbery."

"Hey," Kurt said softly, tapping Wes' knee with his foot. "You're doing great. I, for one, am especially intimidated."

“Really?” Wes sniffed. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Seriously. You’ve coped so well under all this pressure,” Blaine soothed. “We are very impressed. Aren’t we guys?”

“Totally. Own it, dude.”

"Why don't you go out to the car, get the wine, and then we'll toast how intimidating you are. Yeah?"

Wes gave a large smile. "Yeah! Okay, Blaine! Okay." He jumped up and unsteadily found his way to Finn's keys on the counter. "Be right back!"

"I like that guy," Finn announced as Wes left. "He seems nice."

"He is a delight," Kurt said with a nod. "A _delight_!"

Blaine watched Kurt out of the corner of his eye. A sweet daffy grin on his face as he swayed back and forth to a beat only he could hear. Christ, he wanted him. Blaine bit his lip and held back a groan. Too bad he was tied to the ultimate cock block.

And too bad about Colin, of course.

The door creaked open once more and Wes came in. In one hand he held the boxed wine, in the other, clutched to his chest, he held Finn's jar.

"My pennies!" Finn cried. 

"Oh, God. Don't get him started on those again," Blaine said, as Wes settled back down in front of them. "Are you okay?"

Wes looked off. Wes looked distracted. If anything, Wes looked _pissed._

"I'm fine, _partner,_ " Wes hissed. He removed the tab from the wine and pushed it forward, giving the jar a probing look and moving it behind him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Blaine frowned, trying to concentrate through the haze. Something was wrong. Wait, was it? Blaine couldn’t really seem to focus. Not with Kurt leaning his head back down against him, not with the smell of his fruity shampoo wafting into Blaine’s nostrils, not with his cool cheek against Blaine’s skin, not with the vodka coursing through him. No. Nothing was wrong. Everything was great. 

Blaine smiled. "This is number three ibble dibble with four dibble ibbles calling number four ibble dibble with no dibble ibbles.”

*

Kurt shifted, groaning as pain shot through his head. The taste in his mouth was awful and someone's head was on his stomach, pressing deep into his full bladder. Opening his eyes, he looked down and saw it was Blaine.

 _Oh, Lord_. He had a lapful of Blaine. This was awesome. And excruciating. _Don’t pee on him!_

"Hey," Blaine whispered, waking as he felt Kurt shift. "How are you doing?"

"Honestly?" Kurt said, his body aching from his awkward sleeping position. "I've been better. I mean I started out the evening on a date, and now I'm lying on the kitchen floor tied to a shirtless, bloody bank robber. It's like Sex and the City meets Hostel."

"This wasn't how I wanted to do this." Blaine frowned at him, softly, sitting up and turning to face him. "Kurt? Kurt, I have to tell you something."

Kurt licked his lips and gave a nod. Did Blaine have to be so close? So intense? So sexy? How was it fair to be _that_ hot? "Okay."

"I...I...wait?" Blaine looked at his free left wrist curiously. "What the…?”

“Blaine? What’s wrong?”

“No!" Blaine looked around the room. "No!”

“No?”

They’ve gone!" He scrambled to his feet, dragging Kurt with him. "They've gone!"

"Who? What? Stop jumping up and down. I really need to pee!"

"Wes! The money!" He turned to Kurt wide eyes. " _Finn_! They've gone, Kurt. Wes has taken them."


	4. Chapter 4

"Chew faster!" Kurt snapped. "What are you doing? _Savouring_ it?"

Blaine spat the thread from his mouth and glared up at him. "I swear if you hit me on the head one more time..."

"You'll what? Lose more of my relatives?" Kurt sighed heavily. "C'mon! Hurry! They could be in _Mexico_ by now."

“Lucky them,” Blaine muttered. "Do you want to have a try, Houdini? Let's see your tiny teeth try and gum this, shall we?"

"There's no need to get personal."

"No need to get personal?! You just spent the last half an hour calling me Gary Coleman with a perm!"

"I'm upset. I'm entitled to express this. You? You don't have an excuse."

Blaine bit back a curse and returned to the rope. Okay. He'd fucked up. He could see why Kurt was upset. But was smacking him repeatedly with a spatula entirely necessary?

What in hell was Wes thinking? Taking Finn like that? And the _money_. Christ, the money. Without that all this had been for nothing. 

The rope began to give and Blaine dug his teeth in even harder, trying to ignore the delicate wrist his nose was currently resting against. Trying to ignore that Kurt's groin was just level with his face. Damnit, Blaine. How could he think of his libido at a time like this? He needed to separate the Kurt of his fantasies from the one currently attacking him with kitchen wear.

"Hurry up, Borrower. I really, really need to wee!"

Yeah. That should do it.

The rope dropped from Kurt's hand, releasing him for the oven handle and free to now hit Blaine with _both_ of them.

"You're-" Slap. "-welcome." Slap. Blaine dodged another blow and stood up, taking a step back. He caught Kurt's wrists easily and tried to cease the struggling. "Cool it, will you? Hitting me doesn't fix anything."

"But it feels just great!" Kurt snapped. "Now let me go!"

"No," Blaine said, pulling him closer. "Not until you promise to calm down."

Kurt pursed his lips, staring down at Blaine with angry eyes. “Fine,” he hissed. “Where’s the bathroom in this broken down shack?”

Blaine jutted his head to the far corner. Kurt gave another sniff and flounced off towards it. At the slam of the door, Blaine dropped his head into his hands.

Okay, okay. This was a complete _mess_. What the hell was he supposed to do now? How were they going to get Finn back safely? And what if they didn’t? If something happened to his brother, Kurt would hate him. And Blaine _really_ didn’t want Kurt to hate him. Because Kurt was pretty when he smiled. And hot. And sexy. Damnit, keep on track, Blaine!

“Right, find your keys.” Kurt practically flew from the bathroom. “We need to get after them. Now.”

"What? I'm way too over the limit to drive. And drive where? He didn't exactly leave bread crumbs."

"Oh! How wonderful. I get the _responsible_ bank robber." Kurt stopped on reaching the door, his hand to his mouth. "Wait. _Wes_ was drinking! What if they've had an accident? Blaine! What if they’re hurt?"

Blaine felt a shiver run through him at the fear on Kurt's face. "It's fine! Kurt, come on. Wes stopped drinking way before we did. Remember?"

"I don't know. I remember Finn trying to make your arm into a skipping rope. Not much after that." Kurt chewed his lip and looked blankly over Blaine's shoulder. "This is all my fault. Well, mainly yours. But mine, too. What if he hurts him?"

"Wes wouldn't hurt a fly! Ow!" Blaine winced as Kurt's finger poked at his wound. “Okay, okay. But shooting me was an accident."

"Wow! Suddenly I'm at complete ease that my brother has been kidnapped by someone who shoots people by accident!"

"Freaking out isn't going to help anything, okay." Blaine clasped his palms together, bringing his fingertips to his chin. "We need to think. Right. Wes came in with the pennies and he was... He was _different_. Colder. It was like he was angry or something. Wait." Blaine moved past Kurt and returned to the fallen rope. "The jar. The jar's gone."

"Finn's jar?" Kurt frowned. "Carole's been trying to get him to put them in a safe deposit box for ages."

"Pennies? Why?" Blaine crossed his arms, feeling the chill of the morning air on his bare chest.

"Some of them are really old. I think his Dad collected them. He's had them for years."

"Are they worth anything?"

"Do I look like the Antiques Roadshow?"

"God, I cannot deal with you while hung over.” Blaine rubbed at his temples and at the migraine that was closing down on him. “Let's say for now they are." His eyes searched the room for his jacket. Spying it discarded over Finn's chaise lounge he went to it quickly, emptying his pockets. Aha! He held up his cell triumphantly. 

"Hey! Hey!" Kurt clapped his hands together and gave an excited jump. "Try your GPRS! Track him that way!"

"Yeah! Because no doubt he has spent the night driving around this hut in circles." 

"Sarcasm is a very unattractive trait, Blaine."

"I was thinking of the more conventional approach." Blaine scrolled down the contacts, finding Wes' name and punching the dial button.

"You don't honestly think that he's actually..." Kurt began but Blaine cut him off with an index finger.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

"Hello?" Wes' voice came out cautiously. "Blaine?"

Kurt's face blanched as Blaine unleashed a barrage of abuse.

"Are you quite done?" Wes asked.

Blaine gritted his teeth. "Yes, Wes. Now what the fuck do you think you're playing at?"

"Me? Me? What am _I_ playing at? Says the low down double crossing, curly rat himself! What about _you_? What about- no, Finn. Look that's your fourth moon pie. I'm not going out of this room again. Let it digest!"

"Is that him? Is he okay?" Blaine gave Kurt the thumbs up. Kurt returned the gesture with a different digit. 

Okay. Still mad.

“Yes, that’s _him_. The Jolly Green Giant himself. I swear he’s cleared three vending machines.”

“What the hell is going on? You were all against kidnapping yesterday and now you’re Richard Hauptmann?”

“Another one of your shady contacts?” Wes sneered. “Look, do you think I actually wanted to take this idiot? He woke up and began yelling the place down. I didn’t have a choice.” Blaine squinted as he listened. Low, very low he could hear a familiar tune. “And the last thing I needed was him waking you and your partner up. Did you really think you could get away with it? Mercury Dimes! Barber halves! Hell, you’ve even got a 1933 Saint-Gaudens Double Eagle!”

“Sorry, this is like nerd tourettes. You mean Finn’s coins? I had nothing to do with that!” Blaine started as Kurt moved closer, pressing his own ear to the phone, his cheek brushing against Blaine’s. “And er…I…what was I saying?”

“The coins! The coins you tried to sneak past me! Look, I don’t want to be dragging this moron all over the country. I promise you, I’ll let him go. But don’t come after me, Blaine. Or maybe I won’t be so nice.”

The line went dead.

“That went well!” Kurt ran his hands through his hair, leaving the strands in every direction. Blaine resisted the urge to smooth them down. “What now? Why are you _smiling_?”

“Because I know where they are.”

*

“Trust me. No one knows the highway like I do. They have to be there!”

“Because you hear some random Elvis song? Really?” Kurt pushed yet another coffee under his face. “You don’t think that’s clutching at straws?”

“It was Love Me Tender, Kurt. Which- seriously? Another? You brought me about six of these in the shower!”

“And you wouldn’t drink them!”

“I was in the _shower_. “ Blaine threw his hands up. “I’m sober. Okay?” He placed a finger on the map. “Look here. It’s the Little King Inn. It’s dedicated to Elvis and it has this huge ugly sign outside that…”

“Plays Love Me Tender! I’ve seen it when coming back from college! Oh, my God. It’s _so_ tacky. Poor Finn!”

“Poor Wes,” Blaine muttered, drawing a route with his pen. “He can’t be more than two hours away! Yes!”

“I still think we should go to the police,” Kurt said softly. “I don’t have to mention you! I can keep your name out of it but, Blaine, I can’t risk anything happening to Finn.”

Blaine turned in his seat, looking up at Kurt who was doing a good job of avoiding his gaze. “Kurt, I promise you that’ll I’ll get him back. I won’t let Wes hurt him. But… if you want to do that. I won’t stop you. Here.” He handed over the phone, his heart hammering against his chest. “You can call them with this.”

Kurt looked down at the cell in his palm, bottom lip worried between his teeth. “Two hours?”

“Two hours and we’ll have your brother back!” Blaine said, mock cheerful. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Kurt looked at him for a moment. His pale blue-green eyes searching his face. Finally he gave a nod and pressed the phone into Blaine’s hand. “Then let’s go.”

Blaine wanted to hug him. Kiss him. Drag him to a Civil Union. He settled for rising and giving Kurt’s shoulder a squeeze. “

“Well, the van keys have gone so it looks like he took that.” Blaine grabbed up Finn’s keys with a relish. “What is it with your guys and over decorative key fobs? Is this a Carebear?”

“Tenderheart. Stop laughing! I gave it to him!” Kurt went to the door, opening it and giving the room one last sneer before stepping out. “Don’t take Wes here on your honeymoon.”

“What?” Blaine asked, following him out and pulling his jacket on.

“Nothing” Kurt shook his head. "How's your head?"

Blaine winked. "No complaints so far."

Blushing, Kurt looked away, concentrating on Finn's car ahead. “Very droll, Blaine.”

“I do my-“ Blaine stopped.

_Oh, no._

Oh, dear God in Heaven, no.

“Blaine, what is it?” Kurt looked from his face to the tires and back again. “Oh, no!”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Blaine smiled weakly as Kurt turned slowly towards him, eyes flashing. “Wes must have slashed them before he left.”

“ _You think?_ ”

“So, about that two hours…oof!” Blaine cried out as Kurt barrelled into him, knocking him down and punching him on every available surface. “Stop! Stop! Kurt, you taking this _way_ too seriously!”

*

"This isn't working," Blaine said dropping his hand. "My thumb just isn't getting any interest tonight." 

Kurt grunted, inspecting his nails. "That's because you're about as enticing as a Steve Guttenberg movie."

“What?” Blaine said in a low voice. “What did you say, Tyson?”

"Well, look at you. Your clothes are ripped, your hair has twigs in and you face is dirtier than Ke$ha's. Of course no one is throwing the door open to you."

"Whose fault is that? If you hadn't charged me with your spindly body-"

"My body is not spindly!"

"-and tried to kill me, but no. You had to go all Hulk. Christ, I can't believe I forgot how _irritating_ you are!"

"Wait? You're pissed at me! You?!"

"You threw acorns at me all through the woods! Of course, I'm pissed at you."

"I told you, it wasn't me."

"I saw you, Kurt! I saw you!"

"It was a squirrel." Kurt pushed himself away from the tree. "Oh. For goodness sake how hard can this be?"

"By all means!" Blaine bowed, allowing Kurt to pass. "Teach me your skills, Kerouac."

Kurt stepped onto the edge of the road, sticking out his thumb. "Oh! So complicated! I hope I don't _pull_ something!" He rolled his eyes at Blaine’s sour look."Get back then! There's someone coming." Kurt placed a hand on his hip, smiling into the distance.

"Don't stand like that, Kurt," Blaine called. "You look like..."

"Did I ask for help? Just stay back there and try not to…not to…be _you_.”

A steel blue Eagle Wagon began to approach, slowing as it neared Kurt.

Kurt dropped his hand. The car picked up speed and carried on past.

"What are you doing?" Blaine cried. "It was stopping!"

"I'm not getting into an eye sore." Kurt sniffed. "Plus the dashboard was covered in McDonald wrappers and Coke cans. Who knows what I'd pick up. I could inhale e-coli."

"Have you forgotten we are trying to get to your brother, here?" Blaine was practically bouncing in irritation now. "Are you this stupid naturally or do you work at it?"

"Stupid? Stupid?" Kurt spun on his heel and stared him down. “ _I’m_ stupid?”

"Yes. Yes! I swear, you're like Flowers for Algernon with the middle torn out."

The complete nerve of the boy! “I’m sorry, Blaine. I’m _sorry_ that I completely fouled up a bank robbery, kidnapped someone by accident and then threw his brother into the mix. I’m so _sorry_ that I then got accidentally shot because my boyfriend is a complete idiot and can’t hold a gun. Please _forgive me_ , oh Blaine, for getting tied to an oven and then losing said boyfriend and kidnap victim because I was _drunk_! But I’m just so completely _stupid._ ”

“Well.” Blaine shrugged. “When you put it like that.”

“Indeed.” Kurt turned back to the road, sticking out his thumb once more as a Toyota approached. “Now just watch how it’s done.”

The car pulled alongside Kurt, the window coming down slowly. "Hi!" Kurt smiled and tried to look as non threatening as he possibly could. The man tipped down his sunglasses and looked him over slowly, a small smile on his lips.

"You hitching or soliciting?"

"Sorry?"

"Hitching or soliciting?"

"Er, hitch-" Kurt jumped back as the cars wheels went into action, speeding away and leaving him with his mouth open. "-ing"

At Blaine's laughter, Kurt glanced round with a glare. “I can go find more acorns, you know!”

"I tried to tell you! Don't put your hands on your hip when you do it, Julia Roberts, and you'll be fine."

Kurt closed his eyes counting to ten. Any moment now and he was going to snap again. He could feel the red mist descending every time Blaine opened his annoying, ridiculously sexy mouth. This was the worst day in history since…well, yesterday. Wes was going to kill Finn, then Kurt would kill Blaine and his own father would kill Kurt. A blood bath. It was a certainty. 

“Look! A Ford’s coming. Why don’t you stick your bare knobbly knee out like Claudette Colbert. I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Actually, it was Sarah Jessica Parker and my knees are not knobbly! Why don’t you take a running jump? Honestly, how did you do this without being _murdered_.”

“You were more than happy to pick me up that day,” Blaine teased. “Admit it, you liked the cut of my gib.”

“Familiarity has bred contempt since then and I’m surprised you actually _remember_.” The car began to pull in towards the two.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Just forget it.” Kurt pasted a smile on his face as the car came to a stop. “Hello,” Kurt said to the older heavy set man. “Could you give me and my friend a lift?”

"Maybe. Depends on where you heading.”

“Do you know the Little King Inn?” Blaine asked. “With the-“

“Godawful arm waving singing sign? Aye yuh. I know it. I pass it. Climb in.” Blaine leant across him, opening the door for Kurt.

“After you.”

Kurt climbed in, leaned across and slammed the door in his face. Blaine, wisely, decided to take the passenger seat, walking around the car with a defeated sigh. 

"Tristian," Kurt announced offering his hand daintily to be shaken. The man looked down at it with a raised eyebrow.

"You wanting me to kiss that, Princess?"

Kurt snatched his hand back, crossing his arms and tucking his fingers under his arms. "And this is Cleatus."

“Tristian. Cleatus. I’m Martin. Meetcha.” He cleared his throat. “You two runner-aways?”

“No!” Blaine jumped in. “Of course not. Our car just broke down in the woods. We have a friend staying at the Inn, and he has some spare parts in his truck.”

Kurt gave an appreciative nod. He had to hand it to him. The boy could think on his feet.

“Uh huh?” Martin nodded. “You two ain’t like Aileen Wurnos and her chippy, are ya?”

“Oh, no! Of course not. We aren’t killers! Or bank robbers or anything.” Kurt laughed, high and nervous, trying to ignore Blaine’s outraged face. “Or, you know. _Anything._ ”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Martin gave his tree air freshener a gentle bash with his finger. “Otherwise I’d have to arrest ya!” He laughed softly. 

“Why?” Blaine asked with a smile, his eyebrows quirked. “You’re not a cop, are you?

“Aye yuh.”

_Oh, shit._


	5. Chapter 5

"...and they never found the head," Martin said shaking his own. "Worst crime scene I ever had to witness."

Kurt swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around his knees as he pulled his legs up onto the back seat. "And you caught him?"

"Aye yuh. I always catch my man. It's like I can smell guilt. Let me tell you, boy. Crime is a scent you can't wash off."

Kurt hoped Blaine had been vigorous in the shower because Christ.

"Would you mind if I turn this song up?" Blaine asked, a slight panic in his voice. "I just love--" he paused, swallowed down the bile, "--Genesis."

"Of course it was nothing compared to the deadly Scorpion. Did I already tell you about that?"

"Is that where you caught the terrorists in the tower block?" Kurt asked. "Or, the one where you took on that gang at noon?"

Martin grunted. "It makes those look like fairytales. Anyway, it was sometime in the late eighties and--"

Kurt tuned out as Martin began a whole new tale of horror and death. Trust him to flag down Dirty Harry. 

Blaine, who had a unique ability to give his undivided attention to even the most boring conversation and make the speaker really feel as if they had something worth saying, seemed to be regretting his little gift now. He nodded along politely while Martin described various deaths and crimes with such relish that Kurt found himself wondering what sort of stuff he jerked off --

Whoah. Stop that that. He blinked, forcing himself to focus on something else. Ah, yes. Blaine's earnest expression in the mirror.

Stupid handsome Blaine. All handsome and stupid.

"--of course, you can’t skip town without knee caps."

"Hi, hi. Martin? Could we please have the heating on? It's a bit cold back here." Kurt leaned forward, clattering his teeth for effect.

"Cold?" Martin scoffed. "What kind of weakling talk is that? You're not cold are you, Cleatus?"

"No, Sir." Blaine turned round with a smile. "I'm fine."

"That's because you have your eyebrows to keep you warm."

"Hey! There is nothing wrong with my eyebrows!"

"It's like having a deep pile shag on your forehead. I don't whether to look at you, or Shake and Vac you."

"I guess you two will argue you over anything," Martin sighed. "This isn't going to be another Spice Girl debate is it?"

"No," Blaine snorted. "But that's because we've came to conclusion that Ginger was the most talented."

"When?" Kurt snapped. "When did we come to this conclusion, protractor brows?"

"You two remind me of The Krays." Martin chuckled. "They were always bickering." He turned slightly in his seat, looking at Kurt. "You're Reggie."

"Why?" asked Kurt.

"Oh, you know. A bit vulnerable but with a temper on him, I tell yer!" He pointed at Blaine. "And you're Ronnie." 

"Let me guess: devastating wit?"

"No, a bit of a homo." 

“Hey!” Kurt snapped. “How dare--”

“Oh, I don’t mean anything by it. I’ve got nothing against the homos. Once worked a case with one. Nice guy. Perry was his name. We called him Fancy Perry. No, Homo Perry? Or something. Wait! Gay Perry! Great guy. Took a bullet for me, you know.” Martin shifted in his seat. “Kissed me once, too. Hey, did I tell you about the Sin Killer yet?”

Kurt tried not to roll his eyes. "No. No, you didn't."

"My God, that was the worst case I've ever worked on. A man doesn't forget something like that in a hurry; it changes you, you see." He turned back to the road. "Everything felt so dirty afterwards," he muttered darkly. 

"W-what happened?" asked Blaine, genuinely interested. 

"Religious nut. Misanthrope. Guy was a fucking psycho, I tell you. But smart." He sighed. "Killed nearly a dozen people and left us the most crazy clues. Fingerprints spelling out sick messages. A man-- a man chained to the goddamn bed, left to rot. I nearly had a heart attack when he moved. Oh, God. And it was all just a joke to this sicko! We worked out he was killing them according to--"

"The seven deadly sins?" interrupted Kurt with a frown. “Isn’t that the plot to Seven?”

“What? You crazy?” Martin sighed. “This is real life, kid.”

"Erm, I kind of think it is?" Blaine said. "And you know, thinking about it? That one before? About the guy who kept a woman in a hole. Wasn't that Silence of the Lambs?"

"No, no! It wasn't!"

"But you said he kept saying "It puts the lotion on its skin", that's Buffalo Bill!" 

"You followed it in the papers then?"

"And you keep changing the department you work in.” Kurt spoke up. “Vice? Homicide? Vatican Control? I'm pretty sure the last one isn't a real one."

"Yes! It is! It's just new is all!"

"I think--” Blaine licked his lips. “I think that was the plot of Da Vinci Code, wasn't it?" 

Martin whimpered.

"Martin." Kurt said gently. "Are you really a cop?"

"Yes! I am. I'm a damn fine cop. The President himself said he was indebted to me!"

"Which President was that again?" Blaine asked.

"President --er --Palmer."

"From 24?"

"Okay! Okay. I'm a Highway correctional law enforcement controller. There? Happy." Martin slapped his hand down on the steering wheel. "Stupid kids!"

"You're a traffic cop?" Kurt asked.

"A Highway correctional law enforcement controller "

"So a traffic cop?"

"In layman’s terms, yes. Civilians call it that."

"So all these stories, they're all from films? You never did any of them?"

"Well, I did head a team that uncovered a drugs heist, bringing down a whole patrol of corrupt cops!"

"No, no you didn't. That's Super Troopers."

Kurt snorted. "Really, Cleatus? You watched that?"

"I thought it was porn."

"Fine! I'm a traffic cop! A traffic cop!" Martin began to shake his head, his eyes panicked in the rear view mirror. "And I hate it! I hate writing tickets! I hate my stupid whistle. I never wanted to be a stupid cop anyway. I wanted to-- I wanted to--"

"What?" Kurt asked gently. "What did you want?"

"It sounds silly. But ever since I was a little I've wanted to be-- a chef. And Swedish."

"I'm sorry?"

"Like the little guy off The Muppets?”

Someone needed to personally go round this guy’s house and forcibly remove his television.

"I want to make cakes! I want to make fondue fancies and butter-cream puddings!"

"Well, why don't you? What's stopping you?" 

"What's stopping me? Well, how about I'm pushing fifty? How about I got a house that needs paid for? How about--" Martin shook his head sadly. "It's just too late!"

"Oh Martin, if you want to do something you should. No one is allowed to tell you what to be, you are who you are! And if who you are is a Swedish chef, well-- learn that language! Roll those herring! Buy all your furniture from Ikea and don't look back. You were born this way. Except, you weren't. But whatever! Life's too short to worry about insignificant things like nationality and skill."

"You--you really think so?" 

"Of course I do! How about I give you some recipes to get you started! My pineapple upside down cake is to die for."

"You know something, Tristian? You're alright, kid." Martin met his eyes in the mirror. With a flick of his wrist he switched on the heating.

*

 

Kurt was standing on tiptoe waving to the departing Martin's car. And it was taking all of Blaine’s control not to shove him over. As he fought the urge, Love Me Tender sang out from a waving twenty foot Elvis, the machinery creaking on each rise of his hand.

“Oh, God,” Kurt whispered. “It’s even worse close up.”

“Shall we go in? We can maybe organize for you to give a careers seminar?”

“I knew you were sulking! I only offered him some advice!”

“I have had to listen to five thousand different ways to make fondue, Kurt. When I got in the car I didn’t know one. I also had the will to live.”

“But--“ 

“But nothing!” Blaine snapped as they entered through the doors. “Now just let me do the talking, okay?”

Kurt pressed his lips together in a tight line and gave a sarcastic nod. Which was something Blaine hadn’t realized was possible until this weekend.

Hearing their steps, a lone girl at the counter looked up at them expectantly. It was obviously Blaine Time. A little strut, a killer smile, a raised eyebrow: she'd be putty in his hands. 

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Sorry?" 

"You got a facial tic or something?"

"Aha, no. It's one for the money, two for the show, you know."

"No."

"I mean, it's from an Elvis song."

"No." 

"No, what?"

"No, I don't wanna do this. I've had three sign-ins as depressing as this today. How about you just sign in and I'll just talk you through--"

"You're so embarrassing." Kurt muttered sullenly. “We’d like to check in. For the night.” He opened his wallet and pushed his credit card across. 

“Anyone-- interesting in tonight?” Blaine asked, leaning casually on the counter. “Anyone of note?”

The woman glanced down at his offending arm and blinked slowly. “Are you expecting Will and Kate?” She picked up the card and opened the checking in book. “Names?”

“Tristian Le Pone and Cleatus Buckeye,” Kurt said with a dignified sniff. “A twin room, please.”

“Only doubles left, I’m afraid.” She held the card up, reading the name Burt Hummel with a critical eye. “You still want it?”

“And people wonder why I don’t believe in God,” Kurt sighed. “Yes, please.”

"Is that Sting?" Blaine gasped. As the woman looked over her shoulder, Blaine took his chance, pushing himself over the counter, turning the book round and sneaking a look at the list of names.

Alan Mazing and Andre Giant- Room 314.

It had to be.

"Oh, would you look at that." Blaine said as the woman turned back round, her eyes falling to the twisted book. "It wasn't Sting after all. It was a wall." Blaine smiled in apology. "So, anyway, I was wondering if you had anything available starting with the number three? It's just my friend here." He slapped Kurt on the back. "Has extreme OCD. And he just freaks out if the number three isn't on his hotel door. I mean, it's pretty crazy."

Kurt gave Blaine a long suffering look and then nodded in agreement. And again. And again

On the twelfth nod, the girl raised an eyebrow. "There’s a 213?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt, hoping his eyes conveyed his message. Kurt sighed heavily and raised a hand to desk. 

A beat.

And then he swept the clock, phone and checking in book onto the floor.

"Yeah, he likes it to begin with three. Begin. He also likes it to be followed by a one and a--"

"First of all," she glanced to Kurt. "Pick that up. Second of all. If you want a gay orgy with the other two that's your business. Just keep it down. That tall one was delicious, I envy you, but please don't insult my intelligence any further." She pursed her kips. "I'll put you in 316."

Blaine reddened as Kurt knelt and picked up the fallen items. Clearly his smoothness was deserting him. He gave a nod as she pressed the keys into his hand. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Kurt added, placing everything back onto the desk, pushing them into neat straight lines.

"You're welcome."

"Thank you." Kurt grinned. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you--"

"Kurt!" Blaine snapped in a whisper. "Stop it! You don't really have OCD!"

"Oh, great. Now I have to start again! Tha--" Blaine grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the stairs. "You can't just expect me to drop character immediately." Kurt whined. "Marlon Brando said you could get a stroke like that."

*

 

“Will you stop flipping that light switch?” Blaine hissed as he shut the door gently. “I swear I’m going to--"

“What?” Kurt snapped, rolling his eyes at Blaine’s panicked hushing. “What are you going to do, Blaine? 

“I’m-- I’m going to call Wes.” Blaine pulled out his cell and tried not to alight under Kurt’s angry gaze. Punching in Wes’s number, he took a deep breath for courage.

“You don’t give up, do you?” Wes said on the seventh ring. "What do you want?"

Pressing one ear to the phone, Blaine pressed his other to the door. "You sound tired. How is Finn?"

"Like a newborn puppy on Prozac. I made the mistake of getting a room with cable, and he hasn't stopped making me switch channels since. I'm sure I'm developing epilepsy and a repetitive strain injury."

"Sleeping tablets. Trust me. If it's one thing I'm a dab hand at, it's kidnapping. I assume you're in a motel? The woman-- or man at the counter should have some pills behind the desk. Slip them to Finn and there you go! You can take the money, the pennies, and be free of him."

"You-- think that would work?" Wes' voice became excited. "It could! I could get out of here and then call you to say where I left him! Thanks, Blaine!"

"You're wel--" Wes hung up before Blaine could finish. It didn't matter. They had a plan at last.

“See? Now all we have to do is listen for Wes leaving the room and then we can break in and get the money."

"And Finn."

"And Finn, yeah. Sure. I told you I’d come up with something.”

“Or something”

That was it! Blaine couldn’t take this constant sniping anymore. “What? What is the matter with you? I’m doing everything I can to fix this and it’s still not enough! What do you want from me?”

"Seriously? Are you kidding me? I don't hear from you for nearly a year and then out of the blue you've kidnapped my brother? What the hell!"

"I didn't mean to! He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Blaine said angrily, as angrily as one could in a whisper anyway.

"Oh! So he just happened to be at the bank, and it was such a coincidence that he had a jar full of valuable pennies, and isn't it funny how he happens to be my goddamned brother."

“Thank you, Mr. Exposition, but none of this is my fault!”

“What? It’s mine? Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

“In a way,” Blaine muttered. “Look just leave it. If you keep on like this they are going to hear us. Or we aren’t going to hear Wes leave.”

“That’s if he does leave. What makes you think he will? And if he does, how can you be sure he won’t drag Finn along with him?”

“Because if there is one thing this weekend has taught me is that Wes is insane about ropes. He’ll have Finn in a cowboy bowline or a monkey’s fist by now.”

“I bet that’s a thrill in the bedroom,” Kurt stepped away from the door, hands on his hips as he surveyed the place with a curled lip. “So, so much beige.”

Shuddering at the thought of lasso waving Wes, Blaine turned to the scowling boy. “Look, Kurt, I am sorry, okay? I’m sorry for intruding on your life and ruining your fabulous date with your oh-so-amazing boyfriend."

"Who?"

"Colin!" Blaine snapped, wincing at the volume. “I mean, Colin,” he said again in a whisper.

Kurt shrugged. "Who?"

"Your boyfriend. How could you forget a Colin? Doesn't that name just blow you away? Oh wait, he probably does."

"Oh! Yes! Colin. Right. Yes, with that and--yeah.” Kurt sighed heavily and threw up his hands. “Oh, forget it. There is no Colin! You win! Are you happy?"

"What?" Blaine's mouth felt dry. "No Colin?"

"Well," Kurt stammered, redness filling his cheeks. "There is a Colin, but he isn't my Colin. And he is a chartered accountant, and we went on a date, but we aren't dating and--stop laughing!"

"I can't help it! You made up a Colin? Colin? Why not a Norman? Or a Derek? Or a Corporate Takeover?"

“Colin was just a very unfortunately named unfortunate date, and I couldn't wait to get out of it. Of course, the fact that you were the one that phoned made it ten million times more complicated. How was I supposed to think straight when the guy I've been mooning over for the best part of a year, the guy whose smile won't get out of my head, the guy who the mere memory of has ruined every date I've had since him, phones me to tell me he needs to see me right away. And like a fucking fool I ran, only to find you and your moronic boyfriend shacked up like some two bit, low rate Mickey and Mallory."

"Wait, wait. You mean-- you want me?"

"Yes. Yes, I want you. My loins burn for you and the wind sings your name. Satisfied? Oh, laugh it up! The idiot boy you hooked up with still has a crush on you. Ha! Hilarious." Kurt shook his head and turned his back on him. "I'm so dumb. I can't believe I let myself be dragged into all of this!"

“You moron!” Blaine gasped. “You utter moron!”

“Gee! Thanks! Thanks a lot!”

“No, no! You see, I’m a moron, too!” Blaine shook his head, laughing. "I did this all for you! I wanted to go straight! I wanted to be--" Blaine flipped a hand at Kurt. "--good enough for you. But I needed money. So I decided on one last job, and then I was going to come find you." He sighed. "But your brother found me first."

Kurt bit his lip, his head tilted in suspicion. "Oh, really. And what about Wes? Hmm? What were you planning to tell him."

"Er, nothing? It's none of his business."

"None of his business? Of course it is! He's your boyfriend!"

"What? Are you crazy? No, he isn't!"

"C'mon, Blaine! The first thing he said to me was you were partners!"

"In crime, you idiot! Wes isn't even gay!"

"But--"

"I told him that you were this old crime boss that I worked with. God knows why he fell for it when you look like something off The Dark Crystal but--" Blaine held up his palms. "Not my boyfriend. I swear."

"So, you robbed--a bank for me?" Kurt raised a hand to hiis chest, his eyes filling. "That is so romantic. And felonious. But mainly romantic."

Blaine smiled and closed the small distance between them, cupping Kurt's face. "I'd rob my own Grandma for you."

"That's-- sweet, I guess. Actually, maybe you should stop talking?" Kurt said, bringing his mouth to Blaine's.

Six months! Six months he'd had to live without this. Six months without the softness of Kurt's lips, the feel of his body beneath his palms, the taste of his tongue. He wondered if he could spend the rest of his life with Kurt attached to his face.

"The bed!" Kurt gasped, breaking the clinch. "Go, go, go."

"Can't!" Blaine said, taking Kurt's earlobe and nibbling with his teeth. "Kidnapped brother. Wes. Listen. Got to."

"I'll get a new brother! Bed!"

Blaine was only so strong. Kissing, moaning, whispering oaths of adulation as their hands roamed over each other’s bodies, they precariously moved from the door to the simple, sunken double bed, managing to walk into every object on the way. Blaine swearing in annoyance every time a chair or a wall would tear his lips from Kurt’s, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and Kurt lost his balance, falling backward, pulling Blaine down on top of him. 

Pleased with their new position they began to writhe and thrust against each other between hurried kisses. Kurt gasped at Blaine’s hardness pressing into his leg. “Do you want to stop?” Blaine asked breathlessly, groaning as Kurt's hand gripped him through his pants, rubbing the fabric against his rapidly growing erection. “Okay, maybe not.”

Thrusting against Kurt’s hand Blaine bit into the crook of his shoulder, the action causing Kurt to moan deeply. 

Christ, he couldn’t believe he’d managed to keep his hands off the other boy for so long. Blaine’s hands found the zipper of Kurt’s jeans, sliding it down, even the sound deeply erotic to his ears. Kurt bit his bottom lip as Blaine’s fingers slipped inside his boxers and grabbed his cock tightly. “Please,” he said, in a strained, strangled voice. Groaning, Blaine began to move his hand in a rapid speed, gasping as his own erection rubbed against Kurt’s hip.

Kurt's hand moved over Blaine's front, popping the buttons on Blaine’s trousers and freeing his cock from his underwear. Before they could encircle it, Blaine pushed his fingers away and brought their erections together, pulling them both off in tight, rapid tugs. 

“Oh, God!” Kurt exclaimed, his palms running up and down Blaine’s back in desperate patterns. As he fisted the material of Blaine’s shirt tightly between his fingers, Blaine’s skin began to feel three sizes too small as he approached his release. 

“Blaine! Oh!” Kurt arched up into Blaine’s hand and came with a silent cry into Blaine’s mouth, their tongues fighting for dominance. Blaine broke the kiss, raising his head as his orgasm ran through him and he came with a loud, strangled shout. Blaine breathed Kurt’s name into his ear as his body shuddered from the efforts of his coming. Kissing Kurt’s closed lids he murmured quiet, incoherent endearments into his hot, perspiring skin. After a few moments of their breathless embrace, Blaine moved from on top of Kurt and settled next to him on the bed, his arm wrapped round him tightly. Kurt pressed his head to Blaine’s chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart as it came down from their exertions.

“Oh, my God,” Kurt gasped finally. 

“I know,” Blaine laughed. “I know.”

“No, I really mean it. Oh, my God! This has been the best weekend of my life for who knows how long, and I spent most of it tied to an oven."

Blaine grinned. "Me, too."

"And you got shot."

"I did."

"And robbed."

"Kind of killing my buzz here," Blaine said, playing with a tuft of Kurt's hair. "I want to do that again."

"What? Now? I can't feel my legs!"

"No, I mean. I want to be with you. All the time. And to do that again and again and again--"

"Well, that's just too bad, Finn!" A voice shouted out. "I told you not to roll around, and now you've landed on your face. Tough. Lie there and think about your actions." A door slammed.

"Wes," Blaine whispered. "We've got to move. Now."


	6. Chapter 6

"No. Kurt-uh, wait. Crap!" Blaine broke his lips away and stared down at the broken credit card. "That's the third one, now. I need to-- _concentrate_ , um, maybe in a-- no!" Blaine shoved at Kurt's legs. "No, kissing. Not until we get into this room."

"Fine, fine." Kurt sighed, pulling out another from his wallet. "Here try this one."

"How many cards do you have?"

"I have expensive tastes." Kurt shrugged. "It's okay. They're pretty much maxed out."

"What? _All_ of them?"

"Christian T'One. New season."

"You bought the entire collection?!"

"No. Er--Just an anklet."

"An anklet? You maxed out three cards on an anklet?" Blaine shook his head. "When we get in there, you'll never have to worry about money again," Blaine grinned, sliding the card down the door frame. "Well, for now. When we run low, I'll do another job. Keep us in the black. I'll get you _two_ anklets."

 _Oh,_ Kurt thought as it gave way with a quiet snick, and Blaine handed him his card back. _That_.

Blaine was a thief. A professional one. Of course. Why would he give it up? Kurt could see the excitement in it. The rush, he supposed. But Blaine had only said a little while ago that Lima was supposed to be his last job. And here he was planning more. Was he bored of Kurt already? It had only been ten minutes! Plus, two anklets? That was just ridiculous.

"Kurt, we're in." Blaine grabbed at Kurt's hand, setting his senses aflame. Shaking his head of the thoughts he followed Blaine into the room, giving a little gasp as he entered.

Finn was bent over the bed-frame, his back to them, rubbing himself frantically against it. "C'mon. C'mon!"

Wow. It was like they were sharing the basement again.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Er, we could come back?"

"Dude!" Finn spun round. "You came to rescue me!" In his excitement , he tottered off the bed and Blaine moved to catch him. "That angry bro tied my feet and hands together. And he left Gossip Girl on. I'm not sure which is worse."

"And you decided to make a move on the bed?"

"I was trying to loosen the knots. I'm not a total idiot, Kurt. Oh, my God. I can't believe you came for me. You are totally awesome," Finn's voice faltered, sounding almost choked. "Thank you."

Blaine began to pull at the binds, trying to free Finn's feet. Finn's huge feet. Finn's huge feet that he was flying, uncontrolled round Blaine's head.

"Will you calm down!" Kurt said, dropping to the floor to help. "You're going to knock Blaine's skull off."

"Good! I hope I do! And that'll teach him to go around kidnapping people, and their pennies, and their brothers!"

Finn stared at them both, his lip trembling. And then he burst into tears.

"Well," Blaine said. "That was unexpected."

"Hey! Hey," Kurt soothed, wrapping his arms round the boy's shoulders. "It's okay."

"It's just been one shitty thing after another, and I'm tired and this must be some sort of neverending Gossip Girl marathan. I want to go home, Kurt!"

"C'mon. There's no need to cry. It's alright."

"I'm _not_ crying!"

"No, no. Of course not. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell Rachel I cried."

"I won't," Kurt agreed.

"Or Mom."

"I won't tell her, either."

"Or Burt?"

"How about we keep it between us? Oh, and Billy the Kid, here."

Blaine blushed and returned to untying Finn's feet. "We need to move fast. Wes could be back any minute."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Finn glared down at him. "Not without my jar."

"What?" Blaine blinked. "The pennies?"

"Wes took them and the bag with him. I'm not leaving without them."

"Finn!" Kurt scolded. "It's just money! It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does!" Finn kicked the rope from his feet, handing his bound wrists to Blaine. "They were my Dad's, okay?" He looked away, his teeth biting at his bottom lip. "They were his and...." His voice grew small. "They're all I have."

Kurt wiped at his brother's face with his sleeve, feeling a little like crying himself.

"Wes has the money?" Blaine swore under his breath. "Just great."

"You're not suggesting we stay, are you?" Kurt asked, his voice icy. "I thought this was about Finn."

"It is! And Finn wants to stay!" Blaine said. "You've been through this much danger already, what's a little more to get what you want?"

"What _I_ want? Right. I see. Could you excuse me?" he said, ignoring Blaine's expression. A mixture of frustration and worry. "I just need to use the bathroom."

Moving before either boy could call him back, Kurt crossed the room, and quickly closed the door behind himself. Taking a big gulp of air, he slid down the door, wrapping his arms around his legs and dropping his head onto his knees.

Okay, this was a mess. It was too much. Could he really live this type of life with Blaine? Would Blaine even want Kurt tagging along? Like an even more fabulous Faye Dunaway? If he remembered that movie, that sure didn't end well.

 _Wait_. Was Kurt actually thinking about going on the run with Blaine. What about his Dad? Carole? Finn? Kurt grimaced remembering the pain on his face. Could Kurt live with himself for putting that look on someone else's? By taking what they had worked hard for?

Kurt bit his lip, gripping his thighs. But the alternative was no Blaine. That was-- that was a _horrible_ thought. Because despite their short time together, a time that had employed entirely too much bondage, Kurt was sure that his feelings for the other boy weren't just attraction. No, they were definitely stronger than that.

It couldn't actually be _love_ , could it?

"What the hell?" Kurt jumped as Wes' rang out behind him. "What are you doing here?"

*

"Wes!" Blaine cried. "Er--hi!"

"You tricked me!" Wes' hand was a blur as he pulled the gun from his jacket. "Again! Where's the other one?"

"Who? Oh, Kurt." Thank God, he'd gone to the bathroom. After Blaine's stupid, stupid comment. God, what had he been thinking? "I ditched him. He was slowing me down. Hey, there's a minibar here, how about you put that down, and we--"

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that again." Wes motioned with the gun. "Stop moving. Stay where I can see you."

"Okay. I'm stopped. I'm stopped. Listen, keep the money. I'm not that bothered. I mean, it would be amazing to have it and all. But, I'm good. You know?"

"Is this reverse psychology?" Wes sighed, shifting the bag on his shoulder and raising his eyebrows. "No offense. You're terrible at it."

Shit. He had to throw him off the track.

"Yes. Yes, it is." There. Brilliant.

Wes tilted his head. "Are you an idiot?"

"I'm the idiot? Me?" Blaine laughed. "Remind me? Are you the one that left with the money to get something to knock Finn out with so you could _leave with the money?"_

Wes stared, his eyes widening and his face growing pale. "No-- I-- You see-- Damnit! I'm going to shoot you _so_ many times!".

"Go on then! If you can even manage it." Blaine taunted. "Does that thing come with an instruction manual?"

"Dude! Stop trying that Jedi trick it isn't working." Finn muttered.

"You should listen to your abnormally sized friend, Crystal Tipps. How about you just stay out of my face? And we'll part ways. Like we always planned?"

"Except," Blaine hissed as he saw the bathroom door slowly creak open. "Except you're taking _everything._ "

"Expenses." Wes shrugged, his back to the approaching Kurt. "Do you know much Lurch eats?"

"Why is everyone always ragging on my height? You can hardly talk, Polly Pocket!"

 _Keep his attention on you,_ Blaine thought. _Keep him from turning around!_

"Who is your favourite Spice Girl?"

"What?" Finn and Wes asked in unison. They looked surprised. Blaine was a little surprised himself.

"You know? Spice Girls? Mine was Ginger."

"Is this you stalling?" Wes asked. "Because it's--insane."

"Plus, Baby was cuter." Finn added. "Ginger was, like, ancient. Old Spice."

Kurt was almost at Wes' shoulder now, gripped tightly in his hands was a--toilet brush? Oh, God. He was going to _die_. Blaine sucked in a breath. "C'mon. Just indulge me."

"Fine. Sporty Spice." Wes took a step backwards. "May that console you on poverty ridden nights in--"

A floorboard creaked and realization was only halfway across his face when Kurt pounced.

"What the-- Oh, ew! That's wet!" The gun faltered as Kurt began to batter Wes about the face and shoulders. "Stop it! That's been used! Used!"

"That's for kidnapping my brother! And for shooting Blaine! And for making me think you were dat- _Oh, Shit!_."

Wes had recovered quickly, and now had Kurt's back against his chest and the gun pressed against his temple. "Ditched him, Blaine?"

"Wes! Cool, okay?" Blaine started forward, halting as the gun turned towards his face. _Kurt!_ Blaine's heart hammered at his chest desperately. How could he have been so stupid? To put Kurt in danger like this?

Is this what it would be like for them? If they managed to distract Wes with something shiny, and get away from him. Would he spend every night worrying about Kurt while he played Grace Kelly to his Cary Grant? What kind of future would that be? Blaine didn't want that. Not for him.

"Maybe I can get his criminal friends to pay big money for him? Yeah!"

"What? Oh! I forgot about that." Blaine ran his hands through his hair, "Yeah, Kurt? Isn't Kurt the Hurt."

"I'm not what?"

"Wait, what? Are you telling me he _isn't_ a crime lord?"

"Oh, he's a _lord_ alright."

"Hey! Don't homophobe my brother!"

"Yeah," Wes nodded. "That's a bit harsh, Blaine."

"No, I mean-- We-- have a _history_. Let's just say I've kidnapped him before. And we hit it off."

"So he didn't commit the Great Train Robbery?"

"Er, no. He'd have to be eighty, Wes! Amazing kisser, though. Amongst other things."

Kurt grinned. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome."

"And they don't call you _Blaine the Pain?_ "

"Ah. No. They don't."

"I don't believe this. You're telling me you're the gay Ted Bundy." Wes sighed. "Is anything that comes out of your mouth the truth, Blaine?"

"Wait, wait. Slept together? You and Kurt?" Finn exclaimed. "When?"

"Er--now isn't really the time," Kurt shook his head, his hand clutching at Wes' arm.

"Oh, my God! You totally did it while I was all kidnapped and being tortured! You whores!"

" _Finn!_ "

"C'mon. Let Kurt go. He's got nothing to do with this."

"I'm going to give you a choice, Blaine. Because despite everything I still like you." Wes pulled tighter at the arm around the boy's neck. "You can come with me. We split this money. Or, I take the money and I take Kurt."

"You're not going anywhere with him!" Finn snapped, he made to move nearer, but halted as Wes pressed the barrel further into Kurt's temple.

Blaine bit his lip. He couldn't let him take Kurt. God knows Wes couldn't be trusted with a gun. Even if he had a fishing rod, he'd poke someone's eye out. Blaine couldn't let anything happen to him. He'd never forgive himself.

"Okay, okay," Blaine nodded, rubbing at his jaw. "I can do that."

"Blaine!" Kurt gasped.

"He's just a hook up," Blaine continued. "I mean, sure he's cute and all but I'm not in _love_ with him or anything." That hurt. A tiny spark twisted in his gut and Blaine carried on, he didn't have time to think on what the hell that meant. "C'mon, let him go and we'll get out of here."

Kurt's lips pressed together into a thin line, and his eyes were watery. Blaine had never felt more like a shit in his whole entire life.

"Hook up?" Finn turned to him slowly. "You slattern! You took advantage of my little brother"

"I'm older than you, Finn. And no," Kurt curled his upper lip. "No one took advantage of me. And they won't ever again."

And that? That _really_ hurt.

"See? You think I could handle that attitude everyday? Just because he has a nice build, and soft skin. And just because he is sweet, and funny, and flexible doesn't mean I want to, like, _marry_ him or anything. So you holding him hostage is just ridiculous. I totally don't care. I'm breezy about the situation in fact."

"Oh, my God." Wes said in a stilted voice. "You _love_ him!"

"What?" Blaine laughed nervously. "No, I don't! Pfft."

"You do, dude. You totally do!" Finn pointed at him with his bound hands. "You love Kurt!"

"I don't!" Blaine cried. "I--" That was absurd! Blaine looked at the other boy who was staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes, his rose lips parted slightly. Oh, fuck it. "Fine! I love him. I think. I don't know! Okay?"

"Do you really?" Kurt asked, his eyes wide. "Blaine?"

Blaine stared at the other boy, his mouth drying and his heart pounding. And he _knew_. He just knew. "Yes, I love you.."

Kurt giggled. "That's fantastic!"

"Ow!" Wes cried as Kurt stomped on his foot and ran into Blaine's arms, hugging him tightly. "Ow, ow!" Wes hopped. "Fuck! I can't stand _any_ of you!" He hugged the bag to his chest and pointed the gun at them.

"Hey, listen. Do what you got to do." Finn said, holding out a hand as he approached. "But could you leave the jar?"

"Are you insane? Do you know how much these are worth. No, wait of course not. It's _you_."

"Wes, they belonged to his Dad," Blaine hugged Kurt close to him. "He doesn't care about how much they are."

"Oh? Am I expected to believe that? How do I know you aren't going to split it and head to San Francisco?"

"He's not lying. They were my Dad's. And it's all I got left of him, bro. You don't seem a bad guy. When you aren't tying things up or stealing stuff or picking channels to watch. C'mon." Finn was a foot away now. "You know it's wrong."

Wes' eyes shifted between each of them. "No, I'm sorry. I sympathize and everything but-- Look! Stop looking at me like that. I--" He looked down at the gun and sighed. It lowered. "I guess-- I guess I don't need _everything._ The money from the job is enough. I think. Is it enough?"

"It would mean so much, Wes," Blaine said, his arm around Kurt's waist. "If we were ever friends."

Wes worried at his bottom lip. "I don't know."

"I know a lot has gone down these last couple of days, but try to remember, Wes. We're close. I'm just asking you for this. This one act of mercy."

Wes shook his head slowly and smiled. "You're right. When it boils down to it, friendship is-"

**THUD.**

"Finn!" Kurt cried. They stared at the boy in horror, as he stood over the unconscious Wes, his bound hands raised above him. "What did you do that for?"

"I can't believe it took me that long to think of it! What?" Finn shrugged. "What's with the face?"

Kurt stepped away from Blaine raising his hand to his mouth. "I can't believe you did that. What if he wakes up in a coma?"

"You need some distance from your brother clearly," Blaine muttered, dropping down next to Wes. "He's fine. Just out cold."

"How do you know?" Kurt asked. "Are you like DareDevil? Do you _smell_ it on him?"

"No, he's got a pulse and he's unconscious."

"Hmm. How long do you think he'll be down for?"

"A couple of hours. Long enough. We should get moving. Because if he wasn't pissed before--"

"Can someone help?" Finn asked, trying to pick up the jar from the bag. "I can't get my fingers around--ahh, crap." The jar dropped from his grasp and rolled over to Kurt, who stopped it with a heeled boot.

"Blaine? Get the keys. Finn? You get the money."

"Sweet, dude." Finn made to pick the bag up, nearly falling at the weight. "Wow, that Wes is stronger than he looks."

"Wait? What are you doing?" Blaine turned to Kurt. "You cant be serious?"

"Why not, man?" Finn shrugged. "We might as well get something out of this weekend. I should at least. I mean, you two got laid."

"It's stealing, Finn!"

"No, it isn't! It's already been stolen, and it wasn't us that stole it so all we are doing is _taking_ it. Taking."

Blaine blinked. "That's _still_ stealing"

Finn shook his head. "Synthetics."

"What?"

"He means semantics,' Kurt said. "And he's right! I thought this is what you wanted?"

Blaine looked at the bag. Then turned and looked at Kurt's face. His sweet, open face. His face that looked like the last thing he wanted to do was take up a vocation as Lima's most wanted.

"No, Kurt. It's not what I want." Blaine crossed the room quickly, taking hold of Kurt's shoulders. "I just want _you._ "

"But the money--"

"Fuck the money. I'm done with that. I'm done with it all. Even if you'd make an amazing Grace Kelly."

"Sorry?"

"I just want to be with you. I don't care where, I don't care how. You're all I need."

Kurt smiled softly. "Like The Beatles song, huh?"

"Yellow Submarine?"

"Shut up, Finn." Kurt closed the distance and pressed his lips to Blaine's. Moaning into his mouth, Blaine's arms encircled him tightly, marvelling at how perfectly he fit against his body.

Finn sighed. "This weekend has _really_ sucked."

Breaking away from Kurt, and missing the contact already, Blaine turned to Finn. "Here, the receptionist thinks we're kinky enough."

"So," Finn said as Blaine untied his hands. "What are we doing."

"We're taking your jar. _Your damn jar._ And leaving Wes the money. I think he has earned it. He's welcome to it. If we take it, he'll only follow. I think it's about time we parted ways." Blaine looked down at his ex partner with a fond smile. "We'll take the van halfway, then get a taxi or something into Lima."

"My Dad could-- _Oh, my God!_ " Kurt scrambled for his cell out of his jeans. "Forty seven missed calls! I am _so_ dead!"

Finn pulled out his with his now free hand. "Oh, yeah and I have-- only two! And they're both Rachel! What the hell?"

"We'll think of something!" Blaine licked his lips. "Right now we've got to get moving. Before Wes wakes up."

"Could we not take--"

"Finn."

"Just a little--"

"No, Finn!" Kurt snapped. He turned to Blaine with a shy grin. "You ready to meet my folks?"

"Oh, oh. Maybe I should turn myself in?" Kurt frowned and mock punched him in the shoulder. "Ow! How many times? Bullet wound!"

"Sorry! Sorry." Kurt took Blaine's hand and nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck. "By the way, I never said. But I think I love you, too."

"Ah," Finn said under his breath. "I have a text. _If you don't send this on to thirty people before 5pm--_ Oh, C'mon, Rachel!"

*

Finn rolled his eyes. It was bad enough he was having to sit in the back of the van all alone, but listening to Kurt and Blaine coo and making smacky noises was too much. They were bound to end up in a ditch. Dead. And then everyone would think Finn was a part of some gigantic gay orgy. Oh, God! He was covered in rope burns they were _so_ going to think that!

Well, never mind. Finn smiled and gave his jar a pat. Least he'd got that back. And Kurt had got a boyfriend, and that was pretty awesome.

Finn put his hand to his jacket pocket. Not as awesome as this, though. He pulled out the wad, fanned it out on the van floor and began to count.

****

The End.

\--

Art! OMG!

The Dapper Highway by Marvystoop 

Kurt's Colin-ating by Miyo Chan 

Finn's and the chaise lounge of doom by Miyo Chan 


End file.
